


Forty-Eight Hour Pass

by Casey_Wolfe



Category: Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - World War II, M/M, Rare Pairings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 03:46:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6549265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casey_Wolfe/pseuds/Casey_Wolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They met at a bar in Paris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forty-Eight Hour Pass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a_quick_drink](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_quick_drink/gifts).



> Inspired by [this video](https://youtu.be/V9hRxIHmmfU). Mentions of Operation Market Garden, Operation Pegasus, and others, cause I’ve been watching too much Band of Brothers. So sue me.

A forty-eight hour pass.  That’s what he had.  Owen only wished his older brother could have been there with him but honestly Owen didn’t even know _where_ Deckard was.  All Owen knew was that he should have been with his men in the aftermath of the shitstorm they all went through but his CO had ordered him under no uncertain terms that he was _taking the pass_.  The Red Devils would be fine without him for a couple days.

He was at a bar in Paris, military men from various allied forces mixed in among the locals.  He nodded to a couple fellow officers- American armor by the look of it- who stood at the bar.  Drink in hand, he turned to watch the singer crooning on the stage when his eye caught on another soldier.

The paratrooper insignia gave him away and the bars put him at Lieutenant.  The man’s blue eyes met his, the hint of a smile lighting his face.  He nodded at Owen.  “Captain,” he acknowledged, stepping up next to him at the bar to order.

Owen wasn’t sure what possessed him to hold out his own glass in offer.  “Currahee,” he said, watching as the man did smile then.

He clinked their glasses together.  “Currahee,” he echoed, tipping the glass back and taking half in one go.

“My men said that was your motto,” Owen explained, “when they returned from the line.”

“Some of those Devils were yours then.”

Owen nodded once.  “It was hell not knowing what happened to the men we had to leave behind.”  Sighing, he tipped back his own drink then.  Softer he added, “Arnhem was hell.”  It had been a month of not knowing, a month of the Red Devils still not being recovered from the hell they faced during Operation Market Garden.

From what he heard, the 101st Airborne hadn’t exactly had it any easier.  “Normandy was hell,” the trooper agreed just as quietly.

“You jumped on D-Day.”  The British 1st Airborne hadn’t jumped that day, rather being held in reserve.  But they _had_ been there for Market Garden, dropping down ninety-seven kilometers behind German lines.  Then proceeding to fail.

“Don’t let the name Easy Company fool you,” the man mused.  “We wouldn’t know _easy_ if it slapped us in the face.”

“Easy Company?”  Owen leaned towards him.  “So you literally did pull my men out of there.”  The man only shrugged it off.  Offering his hand, he introduced himself.  “Owen Shaw.”

The man smiled as he accepted.  “Carter Verone.”

“Carter.”  Owen couldn’t help himself; the man was attractive and Owen certainly could use the company.  “Have another drink with me.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

It wasn’t one more drink but a few.  An evening spent trading war stories and tales of their youth turned into swaying together on the dance floor and then tangled among fresh sheets.

* * *

“Write me?” Carter asked, jacket still unbuttoned as he sat on the bed tying his boots.

Owen slipped his hand under the jacket when Carter sat up and looked at him.  “Of course,” he answered fondly, already finding himself quite attached to the brazen man from Miami.  “Stay safe out there.”

Carter pulled Owen down by the back of his neck into a kiss.  “You too.”  Lips brushed against Owen’s and he closed the remaining space once more.

* * *

It turned out that Easy Company, along with the rest of the 101st, was pinned down in Bastogne.  Breaking through enemy lines to deliver letters was the furthest thing from the minds of Command, so Owen was left to wonder like everyone else about the fate of the men there.

Owen was anxious.  There was training and talks of going back into combat but orders never came.  The focus of battle wasn’t there to keep his mind occupied and so instead he waited.

It was shortly after Patton broke the siege at Bastogne that a letter arrived.  After all that time, the first words to greet him in neat script were: _We didn’t need a fucking rescue._

Owen couldn’t help it.  He burst out laughing.

* * *

They had victory in Europe.  The Red Devils were sent into Norway to play clean up.  Despite meeting little German resistance, and having survived Arnhem and other battles, Owen cursed his luck at taking shrapnel in his thigh.  The war, at least there, was officially over and _now_ he was injured.

Owen stubbornly stayed with his men until they returned to England where they were to be officially disbanded.  He, however, was off to Austria, where the 101st had moved just days before.  Some of the men were waiting to ship home while others were already starting to train to be deployed into the Pacific Theatre.

He found Easy Company engaged in a game of baseball, forced to take his time with his crutches over uneven ground.  Owen wasn’t sure how long he stood there watching, laughing at their antics.

The moment Carter yelled his name all of Owen’s focus zeroed in.  Leaving his post at third base, Carter tore across the field and threw himself at Owen.  The hug was fierce but the kiss was even more so.  Ignoring the wolf whistles of the men, Owen smiled against Carter’s lips, pulling him closer.

They ended up off-balance, crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs.  Owen cursed, his injury still healing, but laughed all the same.  “You’re insane.”

“Not insane enough to stick around here,” Carter countered.  “I’ve got my walking papers.  And my ass is going to a beach where no one’s trying to shoot at it.”

Owen smirked.  “Well, Wales might be a bit different than you’re used to, but you’re welcome to come home with me.”

Carter smiled, face pressed into Owen’s neck.  “I’d love to.”

/End

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://thedenofcaseywolfe.tumblr.com/).


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